A misfortune comes seldom alone
by A M Shepherd
Summary: A drabble a day keeps the writer's block away! Two beginnings, many stories, one end. Although Voldemort is long defeated, many evils remain in the world - and they are never afraid to come out of hiding…
1. September 12th 7:55pm

September 12th 7:55pm

For Stanley Mulle, photography was the essence of modern life. The capability of photographs to capture and preserve a single moment for future generations to remember eternally had astounded Stanley since he was a child. Photography, for him, went beyond mere self expression, instead extending into a desire to wordlessly communicate all the unspeakable things he felt when he took shots: All the amazement, the wonder, the happiness and the sadness, anger and peace, and hope, and hopelessness. The limitless power to make people feel or think something made Stanley feel intoxicatingly glorious.

However Stanley felt very small and insignificant trudging up the hill towards South Foreland Lighthouse that evening. Dusk enveloped the sky above him, the sea in front of him, and the grass around him, into a mysterious haze of colours.


	2. September 13th 8:53am

September 13th 8:53am

A bright September sun shone down upon Harry as he ascended the stairs towards Gringotts. A memory of Hagrid leading him to the wizard bank for the very first time flashed before his eyes - by gosh, more than 26 years had passed since! But today he was here on business, not pleasure.

The grand doors opened before him and Harry stepped into the well lit, grand hall lined with desks upon desks at which sat goblin after goblin, hastily counting money and reading documents and signing papers. Harry gazed at them, one by one, until his eyes fell on who he was here to see: Rendu, the head goblin.

No, today he was not here for pleasure. He was here because the night before there had been a security breach, only the third one in Gringotts' history, as Harry knew well.


	3. September 13th 8:59am

September 13th 8:59am

Wind rushed through Harry's hair blowing it in all directions as the cart he shared with Rendu plunged downwards into a scarcely lit trough. Their surroundings were cave-like, almost primeval, with the tall, slimy stone walls encasing the contorting tracks of the cart. By now, Harry was no longer afraid of the journey to the vaults.

What he was unceasingly amazed by was the architecture of Gringotts. Although awing and marvellous in appearance, the building above ground was perfectly unassuming in hiding the vast, breath taking treasures from within - whether it was the scenery, the vault functions, or their contents.

Rendu held a grim face; he said neither a word nor expressed an emotion in his eyes as the cart trudged forward at a steady pace.

"We're here," he announced coldly as the cart came to a sudden halt, catapulting Harry forward in his seat ever so slightly.


	4. September 13th 09:01am

September 13th 09:01am

Rendu, standing four foot tall, looked even smaller than he was in front the vault door towering above him like a mean teacher about to scold their most hated student for pulling a silly prank. The sable black metal glistened weakly in the lights reflected off the vast, moist stone walls; in the distance, water dripping from the ceiling into the water reservoir far below them could be heard, barely. It was eerily still.

Harry could not see what Rendu did. All he saw was his hands move up and down.

 _Clink! Clonk!_

The door came alive. Cog wheels turned. Metal on metal squealed. Bolts wailed. Harry curiously gazed at the metal rods twisting and turning and moving to all sides. Then - silence. The door cracked open. Rendu turned to look at Harry, expectedly. The countless wrinkles in his face made him look like a weathered potato.


	5. September 12th 9:37pm

September 12th 9:37pm

Darkness surrounded Stanley. A feeble night breeze stirred up the grass roots, tenderly forcing them to dance an absurd jive.

Crouching on the cool ground, he packed his camera equipment away - all shots were done, and not too soon, for this September night was especially wintry and Stanley's polite surly face hid the much heated displeasure he felt within him flowing through his veins. _Off to the pub!_ , he thought, grimly, standing up.

His eyes took a last gaze beyond the cliff, on to the sea below, and into the endless horizo-

 _Movement._

 _Black shadows._

Stanley closed and opened his eyes, shaking his head. It was late. He was alone. He must be sleepy.

There was no one here but him, of that he was sure.


	6. September 13th 9:03am

September 13th 9:03am

It took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to the lack of light in the vault. Even with the door wide open, the hazy light from the outside was insufficient to illuminate the walls, ceiling, and floor. Harry gazed up, wondering silently if there even was a ceiling amid the darkness.

He did not immediately discern that there was a pile of rags on the floor. Harry was about to turn to Rendu, who stood behind him, to ask a question, as his eyes passed across the floor. There, at the centre of the vault, lay what appeared like forgotten scraps of cloths. Carefully Harry stepped forward, almost afraid the pile would come alive and bite him.

One step.

Another step.

Harry crouched on the floor to take a closer look - and almost fell on his butt as he saw a lifeless face.


End file.
